The Happiest Time of the Year
by Sassy-Tabris
Summary: It's Christmas yet again for the plucky John Watson and his eccentric friend Sherlock Holmes. To be exact, it's the first Christmas they'll be spending with Sherlock's rather unwanted toddler. However, nothing is peaceful with children running amok, but it certainly doesn't get better when Mycroft sullenly demands that his brother and strange family be present this year...
1. Wake Up!

To say that John and Sherlock had received a rude awakening would be a...vast understatement. If having a twelve year old, a five year old and a two year old jumping all over you was rude than damn, what John would pay to not know what horrid was.

"Dad! Dad! Dad, wake up! C'mon dad up and attem!" Arthur squealed, literally standing on his fathers gut and shaking his shoulders quickly. John's eyes flew open, grunting in pain and protest. Arthur beamed a toothy grin and rolled off his father, landing neatly on the ground. "C'mon, you and pa must remember what today is! Let's go, Grannie is already makin' breakfast!" And with that the blonde darted out of the room, not offering assistance to the two red heads that continued to assault Sherlock on the other side of the bed.

"Get up, dad!" Astra demanded, jumping furiously on a spare patch of bed, her normally skulking expression replaced by a wide grin that only kids and truly high spirited people got around this time of year. Her little brother, a mere two year old toddler, sat on Sherlock's torso and grinned despite the murderous look the man was giving both of them.

"Why do you insist on doing this today? I thought you only attacked on the actual day, not the eve." Sherlock grumbled sleepily, pulling is comforter up to hide his face, not even giving the kids the satisfaction of looking upon it. Astra scoffed, and before John could sit up or do any other means of assisting her father, easily pushed him off the bed. Fergus, the toddler, ended up half on John's sore gut and half on his arm, giggling madly.

"Have you forgotten?! Uncle My invited us specifically to his home today! He invited Uncle Greg and Aunt Molly too, and you accepted the invite. Now move it before Arthur eats all of your precious pancakes!" The redhead dropped to the ground, somehow managing not to put Sherlock in more agony and stalked off. The detective untangled himself from his blanket and scowled after her.

"I'm regretting my decision in adopting you." He stated simply, though Astra simply waved back at him, gripping the door frame to dramatically turn. She smirked slightly and donned an innocent expression.

"You know you love me, Dad." She chirped, winking as she twirled off down the hallway towards the kitchen. John almost laughed at the similarity, she might as well have been an actual Holmes. Finally the blonde managed to get up though he had to make sure that Fergus, who had attached himself to his arm, didn't smash his head against anything. Sherlock took about three minutes to finally get himself out of his fluffy trap, though by then John was already out the door. Despite his plain annoyance, he couldn't help but feel exasperated. Of course Mycroft had insisted that he actually come to his homely little mansion this Christmas, and with the brats practically begging to go since they loved their somewhat adoptive cousins so much he hadn't had much chance in refusing.

Of course his brother had invited a few of their friends too, and he had no doubts that his mother and a few of his eccentric relatives would probably show as well. Just_ great_ this all was...yes there was practically_ no way_ any of this could possibly go to hell...god he hated his manipulative brother. The resulting drive would take at least an hour and a half, and considering how hyper-active all of the kids were today he was certainly not looking forward to the escapade. Speaking of, sometimes he wondered why he even allowed these kids to live under his roof. He easily could have given Fergus up to his brother, probably could have heartlessly refused to take in Astra...but of course even though many claimed he was a heartless bastard everyone close to him knew that was only partly true.

With a small huff of annoyance the lanky man quickly dove into his closet, toting out a half-full garbage bag. It'd been the easiest way to hold onto all the presents he, John and the kids had gotten for all who were attending the little Christmas get-together at Mycrofts home. Too be honest, they easily could have fit the gifts into two tote bags and been done with it...but Sherlock hadn't found an actual motive to dig through the clutter of their house to find more easily carted bags. He stared at the bag for a minute before shrugging and plopping it down on the bed on his way out. He knew there was nothing too fragile in there, it'd been a rule that no one was allowed to gift anything porcelain or glass. That'd been the subject of much drama last year.


	2. Too Soon

"Good morning, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson chirped cheerily from the stove, where she was currently the subject of Fegus' leg-clinging habit. However, the elderly landlady didn't seem the least bit fazed with the new handicap... and maybe was enjoying it to some degree. Her own children were close to forty now, and her grandchildren she didn't see too often due to travel distances. Her flight left in three hours, though, Sherlock knew. She'd have a mundane but happy Christmas among her family.

"Morning." Sherlock replied simply, taking the nearest available chair and flopping down on it with a slight huff. This was why he rarely slept. Deep, long sleep made him too slow and too lazy to do much whenever he woke. Such an obvious contrast to all the merry and bubbling people in the room who couldn't possibly wait to see what such a prominent holiday would entail.

Arthur was being uncharacteristically hyper today, and he hadn't even had any sugar yet. John's five year old son was wiggling in his seat and going off about peppermint...poisons too, apparently. It was odd to see that such a quiet man's son would be obsessed with spies and detective things so openly, that much Sherlock would admit, especially if said child was barely five... John's pointed look towards the drowsy detective said it all. _You're such a bad influence. _

Sherlock just held back a chuckle and simply gave a innocent smile in return._ I have no idea what you're talking about~! _

"Here you go dearies, a fresh cuppa while the food cooks!" Mrs. Hudson's gentle voice broke the small expression battle between the grown men, and hushed Arthur's babbling to a slightly horrified Astra. The tea cups and saucers were out in front of them all surprisingly quickly. "And Arthur dear I hate to disrupt but the morning meal is not the time to speak of cyanide."

"Thank you Grannie!" Arthur chirped along side Astra, though the dirty blonde was giving the landlady a bright grin for her troubles. "I'll not say another word about it." He's crossing his fingers. Sherlock noticed, smirking lightly. That kid was predictable yet destructive... he liked that. Mrs. Hudson, however, seemed to buy the five year old's play at innocence and smiled, patting his head. The moment Mrs. Hudson turned back to the stove Arthur was muttering about chemicals. Typical morning.

"Thank you Mrs. H." John added, giving his son a small scolding look which told Sherlock that the ex-army doctor had noticed his son's behind-his-back gesture as well. "You didn't have to make us breakfast, don't you have to visit your family?" The landlady simply smiled as she turned her head to look back at the strange, raggedy gathering and glanced down at the cheerful little bugger that refused to let go of her leg.

"Well of course, I'll have to leave soon to catch it. But you all are my kids too. Especially you young man." She replied genuinely with a light smile, then a small false scolding look at Sherlock. The detective laughed it off, standing quickly to hug the elderly woman.

"Oh, you know that wall had it coming!" He stated cheerily, doing a little twirl as he sat back in his seat. "What would you do without my antics to keep you occupied?" That had struck a nerve, unfortunately. Mrs. Hudson and John went ridged, and although the younger kids didn't seem to notice anything Astra gave him a surprised stare. After a moment in the tense silence, Sherlock took a slow sip of his tea. Of course they'd never forget that incident... "I...forgive me." He simply stated, staring at John as the blonde slowly came out of his shell-shocked state.

"It's fine." The doctor replied quickly, gulping down most of his cup in order to keep himself silent. "You already know the answer, just don't bring it up again." Mrs. Hudson made a silent nod and Sherlock grunted in agreement. Luckily the tense air was quickly lifted by Astra quickly standing and removing her little brother from Mrs. Hudson's sore legs. The giggling and maniacal laughter seemed to clear the air, and for that Sherlock was immensely grateful.


	3. And We're Off

**Authors note**: _I'm American and know next to nothing about UK spelling differences and such. For that I apologize here for any mistakes I will likely make in the next few chapters. Anyway, On with the story!_

It was now seven o' clock, about an hour after being brutally jumped on. The flat was alive with quickly paced footsteps and a few thuds of items that were dropped in the rather unneeded rush to get moving. Astra rolled her eyes lightly, though she smiled at how Arthur and little Fergus were participating in getting their respective fathers moving. It all was very amusing to say the least.

To be fair, she probably should be helping her adoptive father and the good Doctor out with their current dilehma. But she'd already gotten her bag of emergancy clothes and a blanket packed up, and she'd told Arthur to stop being so dramatic about it and get his bag ready last night...but of course it's not like the kid listened to her. In other words, she'd done her share of the work...or at least had attempted to.

Now, though, she was perfectly content to watch the craze and wait until they relocated to the car they had rented for this very trip. Arthur was the first to make it to the stairs where Astra had stood waiting for the others in their odd family unit. The dirty blonde had a grin despite his rather ridiculous snowman jumper...and a few smudges of smoke plastered to his face. He'd disturbed his little chemistry lab again, Astra could tell mainly from the annoyed tones Sherlock and John had taken up as they continued to gather everything, though the small bubbling patch in Arthur's trousers below his left kneee was also a good indication.

She remembered the last time he'd tripped over that thing...they had to tear out ten floor boards and re-paper half of one wall. She was also fairly sure that Arthur had to go to the hospital to get his burns treated...how had he even gotten a hold of hydrofluoric acid?!

"Am I going to have to get a new matress again?" The red head questioned after a minute of studying the maniacal little bugger who stood next to her. The blonde shook his head, giving an innocent shrug.

"Sorry, sister, I know how much you wanted a new sprignless matress but sadly no acid spashed anyone this time. Dad has made sure that Pa locks his experiments away at night and so far I haven't been able to pick the lock." Arthur replied, genuinely pouting about the last part. Astra rolled her eyes, but did laugh a little at the younger childs words.

"Well stop trying. I don't think you'd want to go through that drama again." She replied softly. Arthur looked like he was about to retort when she quickly added: "Also, I hope that chemical won't go past the first pant layer." the blonde glanced down at his knees and frowned, shrugging.

"It was diluted immensly, plus Pa said I'd be fine." The blonde shrugged nonchalantly. Astra rose an eyebrow in questioning, but didn't get a chance to add a comment before John and Sherlock finally joined them at the stairs, Sherlock holding a bundled up and wiggling Fergus along with his own backpack that was surely sharing space with the toddlers items as well. John was clutching the garbage bag of presents in one hand, slung over his back, and the keys to the rental clutched in the other.

"Alright, Kids, let's get moving before anything else get's burned." The doctor turned to his son and narrowed his eyes. "You better not have anything explosive in that bag, Arthur." When the blonde boy pouted but nodded sligthly in response the adults took off down the stairs, not waiting for Astra and Arthur to catch up...though it wasn't hard for the two to do. Sherlock couldn't rush like he usually did thanks to Johns more careful pace in front of him, though he was clearly more annoyed by Arthur constantly stepping on his heels.

Getting into the car was by no means fun. There was a short lived argument about who would sit where between Astra and Arthur about who would sit in what seat, but it was quickly quelled by Sherlock who assigned his daughter to the passenger side of the car and the blonde to the middle while John stowed their packs in the trunk. Luckily the only protest was some slight grumbling from Arthur about having to sit next to the hyperactive two year old. However, the holding of a wiggling toddler on the icy pavement while waiting impatiently for John to place the carseat they borrowed from a neighbor nearly proved too much for Sherlock. He slipped only to have a close call nearly three times before he was finally able to hand the child over to John.

"That was tedious." The detective announced dully as he hopped into the drivers seat in pure relief of getting out of the freezing snow fall and ice minefield, if just for a moment. John took a little longer to join him on the passenger side, shivering yet smiling a little.

"Not as much as gutting a pig though?" Sherlock chuckled, starting the car. He glanced back at the kids in the back, who had resumed their morning chattering.

"I'd say a little more, acctually." He replied, smirking lightly as he pulled the car away from the side walk and began their trip.


	4. Intermission: Hide and Seek

**Authors Note:** Holy cow I am so sorry that it took so long for me to write this Writers block is evil ;n;

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The halls were extraordinarily silent, a troublesome observation. It wasn't this quiet around Christmas, or whenever the twins got near sugar for that matter. That was a pure and simple fact. It was quite amazing that any of the children present in the Mansion could hold their tongues, including any tell-tale giggles. How odd that they were succeeding at this game now, as they usually and quite upsettingly failed.

Mycroft let out a small huff, glancing around the corner. He himself was amazed at how the children had gotten him to play this game with them. Normally he wouldn't participate in such meretricious activities...but it seemed the family tradition of manipulation hadn't skipped the next generation. How grand. Despite that, it was a mystery to him how that sheepish woman and her police force husband had harbored such a genius child in spite of their own simple minds. He had to admit, it was interesting how the girl managed to keep up with the Holmes children. Perhaps the ability was enhanced by how much harassing her parents had gone through thanks to the Holmes brothers. It was truly hard to say.

The man continued down the hallway, eyes darting over every square inch of floor and wall searching for the easy clues that would give away where the little brats had hidden themselves. Strangely enough, there wasn't much to go on. So it seemed that his children had learned how to battle the observant...he wasn't sure if this was good or bad. Mycroft sighed through his nose, picking up his pace as he turned down the next hall. Once again, there wasn't much to go on...but he knew he was on the right path. A small skid-mark, created by dress shoes pointing towards a closed door. _Tut-tut, Isolde. I expected better of you. _

He pushed the door open, smirking lightly as he slowly walked in. He expected the children to be stuck in a corner, yes. What he didn't expect was to be tackled rugby-style. The first assailant he recognized as his eldest, Isolde. However, it was difficult to tell which of the younger three was which. It was a blur of brown, red, black and gray. After about two minutes of the pain of being brought to the ground and practically sat on by four children at once, two bright faces managed to come into view. The twins, Ikarus and Babette. Their faces held smug grins that resembled their mother quite hilariously.

"The score is two-zero, Daddy." Babette chirped, jumping off to the side as soon as she saw her father begin to attempt and get up. "How about best three out of four?" Mycroft rolled his eyes, sitting up and forcing his more or less stubborn son to cling onto his shoulders. Isolde was helping Beth hold down his legs, however, so he couldn't stand just yet. With a sigh the man rubbed the back of his head, scowling at the children who had managed to defeat him with their accursed planning.

"Babette, have we not discussed that boasting is a tiring exercise?" Mycroft replied, raising an eyebrow to his grinning daughter then turning to the eldest who continued to smirk at him. "You would not win if she wasn't on your team in the first place...speaking of, what rules did you invent that allowed you to win both times exactly?" The twins shared a glance and Babette shrugged.

"It's not our fault you don't listen, Dad." Isolde replied quickly, still wearing a mean smirk. "The twins are simply telling it like it is." Mycroft glared, and seemed about to retort before laughter practically exploded from the direction of the swung-open door. Lestrade and Anthea stood there, guffawing at the astute man's predicament...though mainly snickers and smirks came from his wife. Before the Holmes could manage a cross word in response to their amusement, Lestrade swooped in and picked up Beth, who still clung to Mycroft's leg.

"Come on, kid. Your mother wants us to help her take inventory." He said to the annoyed blonde as she struggled to get out of his grip. "You also need to get into something other than your pajamas."

"I can walk, you know!" Beth snapped, obviously protesting to being carried out like a two year old. Lestrade simply smiled and headed out, leaving the Holmes family to themselves.

"Alright kids, let your father go." Anthea chuckled, crossing her arms. Almost immediately both the four year olds and the preteen had darted over to her, leaving Mycroft to finally be able to stand. When he did the only thing he responded with was a disapproving glare towards his children, who giggled as their mother sent them off. Anthea turned to her annoyed husband, smirking at his frown. "Oh don't pout, dear, at least they aren't eating your tie anymore."

"That does not make it better, believe it or not." Mycroft replied, rolling his eyes and starting down the hall. His wife smiled, following him at a brisk pace. "Is my brother here yet? It would be a shame if the brats he shares a space with were late to the multiple antics of our currently housed pests."

"I believe..." Anthea cut off as soon as they were halfway down the stairs to the lobby, hearing the mix of excited knocking and amazingly only a single doorbell ring. "They're here."


End file.
